


Shifter

by samttc



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, SPN - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-17
Packaged: 2018-01-16 02:21:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1328323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samttc/pseuds/samttc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean Winchester have been hunting a shape shifter, but when Sam is killed by this shifter, Dean is left alone to deal with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act I

Dean sat down on the motel bed, his eyes red. He looked over at the bed next to his, more tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Dammit Sammy," he said to himself, his voice trembling in sorrow of the brother he had just witnessed the murder of. "I'm so damn sorry that I-... I couldn't save you this time." His voice was hoarse; you could just barely hear what he was actually saying.  
A light, jingling sound was heard from his back pocket. He held his breath for a moment, recognising that the ringtone wasn't his, but it was coming from Sam's phone, which he had taken before he returned to the motel.

Drying his tears and clearing his throat, Dean answered, 'Hello?' There was silence from the other end for a moment. "Hello?" Dean said again, this time a little more harshly.

"Dean? Is that you?" Dean's eyes widened a bit as he realised who was on the other end, and he could feel a little smile appearing on his face, however his stomach was still churning.

"Hi, Bobby," Dean whispered, his voice cracking in realisation of what he had to say next.

"Why're you answerin' Sam's phone? That idjit okay?" Bobby chuckled. His voice, unlike Dean's, was somewhat cheery - or, well, as cheery as Bobby could be. "He get himself into trouble again?"

Once again, Dean had to clear his throat just to gain the ability to speak. "Uh-uhmm, Bobby-... Sammy-uh," Dean closed his eyes as he let a few more tears drip from them. Taking a deep breath, he continued, "Sammy, he's in big trouble. Well... Sam's dead, Bobby. I-I'm sorry. I couldn't save him in time. It was too fast and-"

"Sam's what!?" Bobby exlaimed in disbelief.

"I'm sorry!" Dean shouted. "I couldn't save him. I was too late. I messed up - again. I'm sorry, Bobby."

"Sorry? What're you apoligisin' for? Tryin' to save your brother? You got nothin' to be sorry 'bout! Sam's... gone... but that sure as hell ain't your fault, Dean."

Dean sighed. "All right, if you say so, Bobby. I just think I could've done something more - there must've been a way that I could save him."

"There wasn't." There was a moment of silence from Bobby's end of the line. "How'd it happen?"

"We were hunting a shifter and he'd captured both of us, but it was already too late by the time I actually got my hands free. Dammit!"

"Look, I'll be there in a few hours, and then we're gonna gank this shifter together. Just try not to do somethin' stupid in the meantime. I'll see you then."

Dean hung up the phone and put it down next to him on the bed. He fell back on the bed, his head hitting the pillow heavily. Wanting to sleep - and knowing he needed sleep - Dean closed his eyes and breathed at a pace which was slow yet deep, but he simply couldn't fall into a state of slumber. There were just too many thoughts running through his head - how he could've saved his brother; the many things he knew his father would say if he was alive and found out that his "disappointment of a son" had "once again failed to protect his little brother"; the guilt that Dean couldn't keep from putting on himself. "You would've thought I'd learned my lesson from that time when we were kids. I'm so damn stupid," Dean thought, trying to swallow his tears. He got up and poured himself a large glass of whiskey. Downing the glass he continued to think, "I should be the one who's dead, not Sammy. He deserves this more than me... At least he doesn't just sit around wastin' space."  
He poured another glass, and another, and another, and another, until finally there was an empty bottle on the table and a passed out Dean on the floor.


	2. Act II

In a panic, Dean dragged Sam - or rather the unconscious body of Sam - from the front door to the living room of a motel room in Illinois. He hurriedly crouched down next to his brother, his hands trembling in fear.

"Sammy?" He questioned lightly, his voice cracking. "Sammy!" His tone was sharper this time, and he began to shake his younger brother by the shoulders. "Oh, no." Tears started to fill the young boy's eyes. He hugged his brother tighter than he ever had, not caring about the blood that was spilling onto him from Sam's wound.

You could hear the door open, and almost just as quickly slam shut. Standing by it was Dean and Sam's father, John, who had a look of disappointment and rage spread across his face.

"What happened here?!" John shouted at Dean, shoving him aside so he could get to Sam.

Dean swallowed hard. "I- there was something going on outside, and I thought maybe it was that thing you were hunting so I went outside with the-"

"You went outside?!" John shouted, this time even louder, causing Dean to tear up again. "Didn't I tell you to stay inside and protect your brother? Or did you choose to completely disregard that? Dammit Dean, do you see what you've done to Sam?!" He took Sam in his arms and ran out through the door and placed the young boy in the back seat of a 1967 Chevrolet Impala, which was parked right outside of their motel room. Dean followed John outside, and stood beside the car, trying to hold back all he was feeling inside.

"I'm sorry," Dean said quietly, looking down at the blood stains on his shirt. "I just wanted to make sure it wouldn't get inside... I was trying to protect Sammy!"

"I'm gonna take him to one of my friends to see if she can get him back," John said as he got in the Impala. "You stay here, and don't go anywhere. We'll discuss this when I get back." With those words John slammed the door and drove off.

Dean stepped back into the motel room. As he turned his back to close the door, his father had returned, Sam standing by his side. John lead Sam into the bedroom of the motel and closed the door behind him.

"Dad," Dean's voice echoed. It was quivering in fear of what he knew was to come.  
John stepped closer to Dean, his face red with rage. Everything was turning dark for Dean, as if it was all fading to black. He could feel the darkness slowly consuming him whole - the void coming to collect him.

* * * * * * * *

Dean Winchester - the older, more hung over Dean - sat up quickly, sweat dripping down the sides of his face. He could feel his breath; it was heavy. He rubbed his neck harshly, trying to massage it. "Guess it wasn't a good idea to pass out on the floor," he thought to himself. Dean shrugged and stood up from the floor to make himself some coffee.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean started, looking over at the chair where Sam would usually have been sitting. His somewhat crooked smile then faded as he recalled his brother's absence. "Oh. Right," he continued, his tone more hushed. He could feel himself getting choked up again, until he heard the door to the motel room open, and just as quickly slam shut. He felt his heart jump, and with a swallow of his tears and a twisting feeling within his gut he turned around, terrified.  
Dean exhaled. He quickly walked closer to the man standing by the door, and with his arms open and a smile of relief, he spoke, "Hi, Bobby. 'S good to see you." He hugged Bobby tightly, chuckling, and Bobby hugged just as tightly back.

"How you been? Haven't done somethin' I'd have to clean up, right?" Bobby said, a warm smile of reassurance on his face. It always reminded Dean of the good times he had had with Bobby when he was a kid - out at the park, just tossing a ball around. They were some of the happiest memories he had to date.

"Don't worry, Bobby. Just been here, not really doin' anythin'," Dean answered as he got back to making his coffee.  
Bobby looked around at the motel room. He picked up the empty bottle of whiskey and looked at Dean. "'Cept drinkin' maybe," he said with a slight tone of concern. Dean looked up at, eyes full of disappointment, and looked back down at his coffee mug.  
Bobby, sensing Dean wanted to keep away from the subject, put down the bottle and looked at the walls. Everything the Winchesters had on the shape shifter was plastered on those walls, strings of yarn connecting the different news paper articles and maps.

"So, what do you got on this bastard?" Bobby said.  
Dean sat down at the table - on the chair opposite Sam's - slurping his coffee. He honestly wasn't sure what they had. Everything they had gathered so far was dequoy after dequoy. The place where he and Sam had been caught was only one of out who-knew-how-many-more hiding places the shape shifter had.

"The shifter changes hiding place. Me and Sammy found two, and chances are he ain't goin' back to any of 'em," Dean replied. He thought for a moment, swallowing most of his coffee. He got up and unfolded the map that was lying next to him on the table. "Anyways, I think we know where he's gonna go next," Dean stated, pointing to a place on the map.

"Well what are we waitin' for then? C'mon, let's gank this asshat!" Bobby said.

Dean looked down and swallowed hard. "Yeah... let's," he whispered, half hoping the shape shifter had changed again; he wouldn't be able to bear seeing Sam again, let alone killing him first hand.


End file.
